


Maybe Just Half a Drink More

by yuffiehighwind



Series: Don't Tame Your Demons, Just Keep 'Em On a Leash [3]
Category: Agents of Cracked
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Headcanon, Implied Sexual Content, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25370440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: Sarge and Mandy hook up in the breakroom and have a Merry Christmas.
Relationships: Mandy Manderson/Sarge
Series: Don't Tame Your Demons, Just Keep 'Em On a Leash [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837210





	Maybe Just Half a Drink More

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during [The Cracked Christmace Special](https://youtu.be/sWTU9lfY1xk). The title is a lyric from the song "Baby It's Cold Outside."
> 
> [07/19/20] This is part of a series about Sarge and Mandy that I've not finished - and barely started - writing, but I was just going to keep pointlessly editing this if I didn't throw this up first. Just know that by this point, they've kissed already, after a long series of events I have not written yet. 
> 
> By the way, you should check out my old Michael/Dan fanfic [Roll Baby Roll](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101680). I have it on the **_highest_** authority that it's not terrible. ;-)

Sarge didn’t like parties. They were a waste of time, people chit-chatting about nothing over drinks, or dancing to god awful music, accomplishing little more than becoming intoxicated as quickly as possible. Office holiday parties were even worse. Christmas music softly played while the appetizers got cold. Nobody was getting drunk, yet Sarge was still trapped at work baby-sitting half-wits like Michael Swaim and Dan O’Brien.

But the staff expected some kind of celebration, so they got one. The most Christmas spirit Sarge showed was with his hat and eyepatch - both gifts from Mandy. Red felt with a green holly leaf over one eye, with a hat inspired by Santa’s. Little red stars dotted its thick white trimming. 

“You don’t have to wear it,” she told him. Mandy showed up to the party in a low-cut white blouse, its deep neckline bordered with silver, like garland. She completed the look with a black pencil skirt and a long, gray jacket - not Christmas colors at all - but the sparkling silver caught the light, and Sarge figured it couldn’t hurt to be a little festive.

Setting up for the gathering, Sarge barked orders at his employees just like any other workday, but Mandy kept drawing his notice, shooting flirtatious glances from across the room. Nobody knew their arrangement, and neither planned to reveal it. Sarge was her boss. He usually dismissed anyone’s opinion, but it still wasn’t a good look. It didn’t reflect well on Mandy, he thought, but Cracked was an unconventional place, to say the least, and her colleagues probably wouldn't care. They were too busy with their own work to pay much attention. 

Sarge was used to long days of hard work himself - his career was built on it - but Mandy taught him how to relax. “You need to chill out,” she said. “Believe me, the work will still be there.”

Truly, the website’s success was a secondary responsibility to keeping Michael contained, but Sarge still wanted to ensure Cracked remained in the Top 5 most popular humor sites on the Internet. They’d never match The Onion and there was no point in trying, but at the very least they could stay on top of the Chief’s side-project Broked. Playing the two companies against each other was a dangerous balancing act, a constant worry that plagued the back of Sarge’s mind relieved only by Mandy’s soothing touch.

Sarge had spent years in the desert - it was the reason he surrounded himself with tropical plants at the office. But the leaves also did a good job obscuring the window to the hallway, when sex with Mandy on his desk became a regular occurrence. 

Their first time happened at that desk. It was awkward at first. Mandy lay on her back, but that wasn’t quite right, so she bent over the desk, and that felt weird too. They settled on Mandy riding him in his chair, and that did it. The most intense sex Sarge had in years, wrapping Mandy in his arms, kissing her through it, sharing each shallow breath. Overwhelmed by the pleasure, Sarge was vocal and Mandy had to shush him - there was just a thin pane of glass between them and the hallway. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mandy...”

“Shh, be quiet.”

Sarge buried his face in her neck, kissing it to keep his mouth occupied. To his embarrassment, he didn’t last long. Mandy was understanding, saying, “We’ll just have to do this again.”

No guilt, no shame about fucking her boss. Mandy kissed him once more, before asking to use his private bathroom. While she was gone Sarge remained seated, stunned by what had just happened. He feigned smug nonchalance as she sauntered out his office door, but inside Sarge was still reeling. Not from the sex - he wasn't some blushing flower - but from the idea a girl like Mandy would choose him in the first place. 

A week later, they had sex again, and then a third time. Then they kept having it - at work and in secret. Enough times that Sarge’s intuition about what pleased Mandy had become second nature. Sometimes they met outside of work, but this part of the affair thrilled her. Knowing people were a room away did half Sarge’s job for him. Mandy could hop onto the copy-machine and spread her legs ready to go.

It was this kind of well-practiced rhythm they fell into during the Christmas party. Mandy yanked Sarge by his sash into the breakroom - a location more public than any other room they’d fucked. They had few options - up against the refrigerator, on the counter, or bent over a table. Mandy climbed on the table and lay on her back, Sarge standing between her open thighs. They’d have to make this quick, while the other staff were distracted. They exchanged few words - their bodies fit so naturally and they knew each other so well, that achieving the very height of ecstasy was easy.

Afterwards, Mandy carefully sat up and hopped down. Slipping on her panties, she gestured to her skirt and said, ever-practical, “Remind me to dry-clean this.” 

Any more complaints were silenced by Sarge pulling her into a passionate kiss. Mandy eased into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. Remembering his fly was still open, Sarge broke the kiss to zip back up, but left his green shirt untucked. He could hear O’Brien shouting something in the other room, so Mandy grabbed her jacket and followed him to see the cause of the commotion.

Softly smiling in satisfaction, Mandy leaned against the doorway, putting on her jacket and adjusting her disheveled hair. Sarge watched O’Brien’s display in bemusement, pulling out a cigarette and lighter. 

“Mandy, you just had sex in the breakroom!”

For some reason the foolish boy was boastfully sharing simple observations about Cracked’s staff. The kid’s triumphant tone fell to stunned disappointment, repeating, “You just had sex in the breakroom?” 

Lighting his cigarette, Sarge told Mandy with a smirk, “Now why don’t you tell him how it was?” 

Mandy said nothing, blowing out the lighter’s flame and giving Dan a sly look. O’Brien took a whiff of the air. Mournfully, he said, “Transcendent.”

Grinning smugly, Sarge replied, “Sure ‘nuff!” 

O’Brien slumped his shoulders despondently. Unable to read the room, Swaim declared joyfully, “It’s a Dan-mas O’Brinacle!” 

Sarge flicked the light switch on and off, sternly announcing, “Alright people, Christmas is over.” 

Some staff members looked annoyed, others resigned, and some were confused, either by the revelation Mandy had just slept with Sarge or about being kicked out so soon. Sarge left the lights off, sliding his arm around Mandy to guide them back to the breakroom, slapping her ass as they exited. From what he could hear behind them, employees were dispersing, leaving Swaim and O’Brien behind. He could faintly hear them exchanging gifts, then spraying each other with mace before stumbling to the exit. 

“Let’s wait until those jokers leave,” Sarge told her, before squeezing her ass and pulling her into another kiss. Mandy smiled at him. The girl was so damn sexy it floored him sometimes - he didn’t want the night to end. 

“Christmas may be over, but the night’s still young,” she said. Sarge hummed in agreement.

“Want to take the party back to your place?” he asked. Sarge’s own domicile was utilitarian - sparsely furnished and lacking many comforts. 

“Mm-hmm,” Mandy replied, to his relief. Their best times together were in a proper bed. Sarge kissed her some more, before looking around at the mess left by his employees’ rushed exit. 

“I’m not cleaning this up,” he said. 

Mandy shrugged. “Make the guys do it tomorrow."

By the elevator, Sarge was irritated to find Swaim and O’Brien still blindly fumbling around. He sighed, pressing the down button for them. When it opened, he ordered, “Alright, you goddamn idiots, get in the elevator.”

The two boys jumped, startled by his presence. 

“Um, yes, Sarge,” O’Brien sputtered. “Right away, Sarge. Um, goodnight.” 

If he could still tell Mandy was there, he didn’t say. O’Brien pulled Swaim into the elevator as he was about to say something stupid, and the doors mercifully shut. 

“Sorry about that,” Sarge said. 

“It’s alright,” Mandy replied. “Sometimes those two need a little help.”

Sarge groaned. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for those assholes.”

“Well, I’m friends with Michael, and that other guy is alright, I guess.” Sarge held his tongue, and she continued, “Cut them a little slack.”

“I cut any more, the whole ship sinks.”

“Forget about them,” Mandy said, lightly brushing the nape of his neck with her fingertips, just beneath his hat. “It’s Christmas.”

Sarge scoffed. “A holiday invented by Coca-Cola and Hallmark.”

“You wore the hat,” Mandy said. Making him flinch slightly, she touched the eyepatch, adding, “And the patch.”

He grasped her wrist, pulling it away from his face. 

“Don’t--”

"Sorry," Mandy said, lowering her arm.

Sarge held her hand, replying, “It’s alright, I just...” He sighed. “I haven’t celebrated Christmas in decades.”

He didn’t look to see Mandy’s expression. Sarge had told her he was immortal, but for some reason she didn’t believe him, despite all the other things she’d seen. Accepting the Chief had powers and Swaim was like a damn phoenix, able to regrow his head - sure, those were plausible. But that Sarge was an old man, so much older than her, seemed outside possibility. 

He felt Mandy kiss his cheek, saying, “Then let’s go have a happy Christmas.”

Sarge allowed himself to smile and the elevator door opened. His smile fell as soon as it appeared - Swaim and O’Brien were still riding it.

“Listen up, dipshits, we’re going down,” he announced, boarding the elevator with Mandy. On the ground floor, he roughly shoved the two boys into the lobby and stomped past them. 

“Be here tomorrow at 06:00 and clean this goddamn mess up!”

“Yes, Sarge. Will do, Sarge!” O’Brien said.

Swaim asked, “Is that Pacific Standing Time, or Sandwich Meat Time?”

“Just be here at dawn!” Sarge barked.

Outside, Mandy asked, shivering slightly in the cool Californian air, “So, Sarge, what do you want to do for Christmas?”

“I’m going to buy you a top shelf bottle of champagne,” Sarge said, wrapping his arm around her, “and we’re going to get so shitfaced we don’t know what day it is.”

Mandy laughed in delight. It was going to be a good Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> [8/25/20] Thought I'd mention this, because I miss the real Cracked's heyday terribly, but [according to Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cracked.com), in 2012, Cracked.com was, in fact, the most popular humor website on the Internet. When Sarge doubts in his narration that they'd ever surpass The Onion, remember this fanfic takes place not only in 2010, but in a fictional universe in which the site is a dumpster fire.


End file.
